EPILOGUE
At 1:15 in the morning, while her sister was being discharged from a Washington, DC, hospital, Danielle Fine crossed the Oklahoma/Texas state line. She was tired and hungry, but she knew she could not stop.
Her father had been making noises in the trunk for the last hour or so. She had turned up her music, some loud and abrasive stuff from her teenage years, to drown it out. It had worked, and she had allowed herself to drive in a sort of hypnotic state as the night lured her on.
She knew she’d have to stop for gas soon. And that was fine…she’d pull off onto some little two-lane stretch of nothing and fill up at a convenience store in a no-name town. There would be less traffic and far less chance of anyone hearing the whining and complaining of the man in her trunk. She’d stop
